


Do I still taste of war?

by Theartfulldodger



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Draco has emotions, Guilt, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hurt, M/M, POV Second Person, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:47:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25850803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theartfulldodger/pseuds/Theartfulldodger
Summary: A very short and sweet exploration of Draco's guilt after the war.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	Do I still taste of war?

The soft glow from the fireplace casts shadows that gracefully cling to the curves of your cheekbones, the point of your nose, the tips of your eyelashes. Occasionally, the flames crackle across the room, prompting the smallest of twitches from your left eyelid, your overworked survival instincts still marinating in the hollows of your bones even fourteen years later. A dark curl abandons the mess of hair atop your head to tickle your forehead, resting just above the crack of lightning that bursts near your eyebrow and burns out at the top of your cheek. You, still swallowed by the depths of your sleep, make no move to fix it.

I reach out to brush the lock of hair off of your forehead, pausing as my fingers are just breaths away. I inhale. Exhale. Lips upturn ever-so-slightly. What have I possibly done to deserve this? 

Your hair is soft on my fingertips as I push it back into place, if you can even consider it to have a place in that untamable mop. I let my hand brush the stubble that graces your cheek as I settle it on the bed just in front of your chest. 

A shiver inches up my spine as my eyes follow the trail of bruises and bite-marks beginning to bloom in between the scars in varying stages of healing across your chest. A deep and subtle heat builds in my core as I admire your hard lines, your contradicting softness. I glance down at my own chest, a distorted mirror of yours, and wonder if you tasted rust on your tongue. Does the scent of a cruciatus still linger in my hair? Do you catch the dancing of black, inky lines on my forearm out of the corner of your eye? Do you close your eyes, give your head a shake, to convince yourself it’s not real?

How can you look at me each day, so full of love and trust, as ashes still coat my tongue and blood stains my palms?

**Author's Note:**

> What can I say? Draco is my boy, my tragic and broken and sad boy. Come say hi [on Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/graymatters).
> 
> Title inspired by a quote that I cannot find credited in the never ending pits of hell that is Tumblr. If anyone knows the original author, please let me know!


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